


Stand By and Wait

by flashindie



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashindie/pseuds/flashindie
Summary: “I bet you always had your hand in the air,” he continues, lowering his voice until it’s a thick, dulcet purr, fist dragging up her back, pulling her night dress with it. “Bet you pouted when Teach didn’t call on you.”Beth opens her mouth to reply, but Rio shushes her quickly.“There are other kids in the class, Elizabeth.”And it’s loaded, like she knows he intends – always says things he means to her in these moments, and she frowns despite how red she is, pinching at his side, and he laughs, shedding all his heat in an instant, and god, that isn’tfair. She feels too hot, bristling with tension now, and Rio somehow is as relaxed and preening as he ever is.-Set in a canon that diverges somewhere along the lines in late S2. Beth and Rio are sleeping together. They talk about highschool and kind of, sort of, almost role play? It's as complicated as they are! Also this is basically PWP with a few character moments.





	Stand By and Wait

Of all the things she misses about pre-motherhood life, the one she thinks about most is the need for an alarm. 

Because it’s clockwork these days, that’s all – it hits 6am and she boots up like someone’s flicked a switch in her – her mind chugging into consciousness, her eyes blinking open to greet the bright pull of morning as she runs through the schedule etched into the walls of her skull. Is it Monday? She’s Room Mom on Mondays for Jane’s first grade class, so she needs to remember the craft supplies and to make 32 allergen-free cupcakes in time for school run. Tuesday’s and Thursday’s Kenny has tutoring in the afternoons, so she has to remember to take the extra text books, Wednesdays Emma’s at ballet, Kenny at swimming, and Fridays Danny has scouts. 

Did she wash Kenny’s bathing suit? She’s sure she did. He’d lost his swimming goggles in the changeroom last week too, and she wants to call the front desk again, to see if they’ve found them. 

That’s after packing lunches and backpacks, checking homework, signing permission slips, fixing Jane’s pants and Emma’s hair, Danny’s shoelaces and the collar of Kenny’s shirt. She wracks her head for the day, stretching a little and wincing slightly at the ache in her thighs, in her back, the dull one between her legs. 

As if on cue, there’s a groan beside her, something deep and husky and already annoyed. 

“Go back to sleep,” the voice attached to it says, and Beth sits up, tossing the sheet aside as she goes, only for a hand to grab her arm, tugging her back towards the mattress. 

“They ain’t here,” the voice says. “You dropped ‘em at Car Man’s yesterday mornin’. There ain’t nothin’ to get ready, no one to feed, nothin’. Sleep.”

Beth tries to wriggle her arm out of the grip, but it’s no good. It’s tight, not enough to bruise, but enough to be firm. She looks down at Rio’s long, leonine body. He’s stark naked, face down in the bed, with only the sheet covering his bare ass, while she’s in a night dress, a satin slip of a thing that barely covers her own lace-panty-clad-ass, a pale pink that she’d thought had washed her out until Rio had slipped in behind her in the changeroom at the store, done a double take, and proceeded to push the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and bite a line of rose-red hickies down her chest. 

“The housework doesn’t stop because the kids aren’t here,” she says now to the back of his head. “I’m behind on laundry, the floors are dirty, the grass needs to be mowed, and there’s some wood rot in the treehouse that I really want to take care of while they’re away.” 

He huffs at that, loud and annoyed, but at least he turns his face around on the pillow to look at her properly and actually, no, that’s probably not a good thing, Beth thinks, feeling his gaze hot on her. They’ve been doing this for months now, that look really shouldn’t still make her squirm. 

“Elizabeth,” he says, pushing himself up just enough to lean forwards and kiss her softly. Her eyes fall shut, she can’t help it, her body leaning into his just before he pulls his lips away, and when she opens her eyes again, he’s only an inch away from her. “Lie down.” 

He must see her start to protest, because before she knows it, his hands are beneath her thighs, and he’s yanking her down so quickly, she flails, her back finding the mattress again, and then he’s curling an arm around her waist, effectively pinning her. He leans over to bite her, hard, on the shoulder, before digging his chin into the bone. 

She just lies there, wide awake, and he starts to brush his hand at her waist in a way he must think is soothing, and it kind of is, but mostly isn’t. Mostly just twists her up hotly as she thinks about everything there is to do and the time she’s wasting here beside him. 

After a few more minutes, he sighs, pushing his leg back down and opening his eyes again to watch her, a markedly unimpressed look on his face. 

“It’s six am,” he says, and Beth nods, eyebrows raised, because _no shit_. 

“Exactly,” she says instead. “Good morning.” 

He gives her a look she’s pretty sure could strip paint and Beth smiles as sweetly as she can back at him. Her bedroom is already way too bright with the day, a side-effect of the French doors she loves – Annie makes a point every time she sleeps over of telling Beth she needs to buy blackout curtains, but when you’re up as early as Beth is, it really isn’t often an issue. She kicks the sheets better off her, edging towards the side of the bed when Rio practically growls beside her. 

“You get out of this bed, darlin’, and you and me are gonna have a problem.” 

Beth pauses, arching an eyebrow back at him. 

“Oh, please. What are you going to do about it?” 

And it’s probably not the right thing to say, because she has the stark memory of the last time she’d said that to him and him fucking her so hard and so well she’d barely been able to conjure a thought for the rest of the day, let alone pulled her noodle body off the sofa. Thankfully given the day she has planned, his mood right now seems more singularly focused on getting them both back to sleep, so she can’t say she’s surprised when he grabs her again, tugging her back down beside him and curling around her body until he’s like a child with a favourite toy, and god, if that isn’t that far from the truth these days. 

She can’t help herself from wriggling her toes, digging her heels into the mattress, her body a little too poised, ready for the day, her mind already whirring. Rio must be able to sense it, feel it, if the way he sighs beside her is anything to go by, and after a minute his arm tightens around her, pulling her hard against him as if the weight of his embrace might lull her back to sleep. 

Beth lets herself be pulled, briefly enjoying losing herself in the smell and the warmth of him, but it’s not long before the day is distracting her again (there’s traffic on the street outside! People are up! She should be!), her fingers drumming restlessly against his arm. 

The groan Rio lets out is almost animalistic in its annoyance, and he loosens his hold on her before disentangling from her all together, rolling onto his back and shoving the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He presses there, hard, and she can see his mouth twisted into a tight little frown. 

And whatever, Beth thinks, sniffing as she sits up and edges to the side of the bed. He’ll get over it. She wants to start on the garden before the day gets too warm, and she knows it won’t be long until he’ll be taking a mysterious call from one of his many associates and needing to head out anyway. 

“Kenny told me about that Miss Arnold the other day.” 

And that’s….news.

Beth blinks, turning back around to face Rio, who makes slow work of pulling his hands away from his face, his eyes sleepy and half-lidded when they fix on her. It takes her a minute to muster the brain power to reply.

“What?” 

He hums, lips tugging into a small, smug grin.

“His new geo teacher. Apparently she smells like coconut and loves hearin’ about his krav maga and shit. He wants to invite her to one of his classes.” 

Beth reels back a little, her eyes widening at the revelation. She sits back down on the mattress, looking at him suspiciously. 

“Why would he talk to you about that?” 

“Think your boy was lookin’ for tips. Ain’t like his dad knows how to keep a woman where he wants ‘em.” 

And the look Rio gives her is some cocktail of amused, gloating and pointed, and Beth looks down at where she’s somehow ended up back on the bed, and makes a production of smiling at him too sweetly and getting out of it again. She’s made it two steps, before his voice sounds behind her.

“Oh, so you don’t want to hear about your son’s crush? Okay.” 

If she’d made a production out of getting out of bed, he makes an entire touring show out of yawning, stretching his lean, leonine body back against the headboard, kicking the sheets just slightly lower so that she can see the tips of his hipbones and the v of his groin. She glares at him, but just - - god, she hates the way they both can feel her eyes on him, on the strong, firm line of him, his warm skin, the tiny puckered bruises she’d sucked into his chest the night before. 

“He’s too young to have a crush,” she says, tearing her gaze away from him and forcing herself back to the topic at hand. 

Rio just laughs. 

“He’s twelve, ma.” 

“Which is too young,” she insists, planting her hands on her hips. “I bet you it’s just a teacher he admires. Kids that age can’t tell the difference.” 

“Yeah?” Rio asks, his eyebrows raised innocently as he stares at her from the bed. “What are we bettin’?” 

And yeah, sure, like Beth is dumb enough to make a bet with him. She gives him a look, and he cackles, like he’d read her mind. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to scoot to the edge of the bed, pull her back in with him, but she sees it – the moment he changes his mind, and she knows him well enough to know what he wants. For her to come on her own, to find herself back there beside him, to _win_. Beth plants her heels. 

“I remember my first crush,” he muses, and the words are as much a surprise as his earlier ones were. Rio never offers information freely, and Beth suddenly finds herself looking at him like he might suddenly peel off his skin suit and reveal something green and one-eyed underneath. If he picks up on her look, he hides it well enough, knitting his fingers together and pushing them behind his head, his elbows splayed either side. “Luisa Ruiz. She was a friend of my sister’s. Older.” 

He looks at Beth pointedly then, and she ignores the way her gut clenches. 

“She had the loudest fuckin’ mouth, but she was smart. Hair down to her ass. Played flute. Could match my sister’s bullshit. Man, I was younger than Kenny. I think I would’ve followed her off a bridge.” 

His voice is deep, husky, but it’s not from sleep this time, and Beth finds herself simultaneously wanting to know everything about this girl and nothing about her, and god, she’s embarrassing. Jealous of an elementary school crush. She shakes her head, huffing out a breath.

“What about you, ma?” 

Beth blinks, looking over at him. 

“What about me?” 

“I told you mine,” and then, grinning a little to himself. “Snitched on your kid too.” 

Beth snorts, and somehow resists the urge to talk about exactly what snitches get. Instead, she thinks about his question, and god, she really hasn’t thought about this sort of thing in years. Beth and Ruby don’t exactly reminisce that much about highschool anyway, it was a crap time, and they were both there for it, so it’s not like they reveal all that much in talking about it. Life is a beast with too many mouths to feed anyway, and highschool feels like a million years ago. 

“David Whitton,” she says after a moment, and the memory floods her, of his slightly-gap-toothed grin, his glasses, his tall, gangly body. “I was a freshman in highschool, he was from Wayne State. He coached the debate team.” 

“You debated?” 

Beth scrunches up her nose. 

“No, I was - - Just no. Ruby did though. I used to go and watch her, and David was always nice to me. I mean, he was nice to everyone, but he - - ”

He knew about her mother, Beth wants to tell him. She doesn’t know how, although she thinks it was probably from the faculty, who all seemed to know more than they’d ever say. He would bring her homemade meals in Tupperware and his niece’s hand-me-downs for Annie. Would check Beth’s essays and exam prep for her while the teams prepared for their debates, because no one else, except Ruby, in her life would, and never asked for a thing in return, never looked at her in the ways some of the other boys had, never - - never really anything’d except been kind to her at a time when she’d needed it so badly. She’d sobbed for weeks when he’d gotten into a post-grad program overseas, but then she was with Dean, and it had been easier than she’d like to admit to forget David’s kindness for Dean’s vibrance and attention. 

She glances back at Rio, who’s watching her a little too intently, like he’s trying to figure out what she’s thinking, if her weighted silence is something that’s happy or sad or hurting, and she doesn’t know how to tell him it’s maybe all of it. 

“See, fourteen?” she says instead, taking a step closer to the bed, almost without thinking. “A respectable age for a first crush.” 

At least it makes him snort on a laugh, sit up a little taller in her bed, and once again, she feels something in her clench. He’s impossibly handsome. Sometimes she can’t believe it. Thinks the lines and shadows of him should be reserved for the art he keeps or the glossy pages of magazines where he can become somebody else’s fantasy, where he can be the thing that’s caught, instead of the thing always doing the catching. 

And god, at least she’s self-aware, she thinks, dropping softly to the edge of the bed again, glancing back at his smug look. 

“I bet you had girls lining up in highschool,” she says, a little dryer than she intended, because she _can_ picture it, still does – only he’s not in highschool. He’s, well, _anywhere_ , and Beth’s exactly dumb enough to be lined up with them. She pulls her night dress a little further down her thighs, covering herself, and if Rio notices, he doesn’t comment. 

Right now, he just shrugs in reply, his hands still laced behind his head, but there’s a twist to his grin that tells her she’s right. Beth rolls her eyes. 

“You tryna tell me you didn’t have boys offerin’ to carry your books?” 

Beth just gives him a look. 

“I was a late bloomer,” she says, and distracted, she adds in her head, looking after Annie. “And besides, I was dating Dean by my sophomore year.” 

She doesn’t think of just what she’s admitting in that until after the words have left her mouth, and feels her chest clench, her cheeks flush. They haven’t talked about their sexual histories at all, and this is as much an admission to her limited experience as anything, and she’s not sure what’s worse – her saying it, or Rio not looking the least bit surprised. 

“Don’t sound like a late bloomer to me if you were datin’ Car Man by 15.”

She doesn’t really know what to say to that, and she’s thinking about getting up again when Rio rolls onto his side, sheets bunching at his hips and squints at her before saying, decisively: 

“Cheerleader.” 

Beth barks on a laugh, looking at him, baffled. 

“Me?” 

He nods faux innocently, which only makes her laugh all over again, leaning slightly closer to him in the bed, half lying herself down. 

“ _No_ ,” she replies, and he hums, an impish grin on his face as he rolls closer, tugging gently at her until she’s flush beside him again and pushing his thigh between her legs. 

“You sure? I can see it. You with all that energy,” his hands lower to the backs of her thighs, flitting up below the hem of her night dress, fingers light at her ass, pushing just below her panty line, his eyes on her tits. “In one of those little skirts. Bouncin’ around.” 

She narrows her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off her face, or the heat from pooling between her (still aching) legs.

“Well, Dean was on the football team,” she says lightly, and Rio rocks somehow closer, smacks her ass before he grabs it, fingers hard enough to bruise. 

“Car Man seems the type,” he says dryly, and Beth laughs again, kissing his collar bone, leaving a smear of yesterday’s lipstick there.

“I was student council, glee club and honor roll,” she says, before she can think too much on it, and she’s a little embarrassed by the pride in her voice.

“Shockin’,” he replies, his voice so deadpan that Beth can’t help but laugh again. She hooks her chin over his shoulder, glancing at the French doors behind him, and suddenly here, in his arms again, the grass doesn’t look quite so long, the piled-up laundry in the corner not quite so pressing. 

It’s weird to think about school, to remember long nights at the library, Ruby at her side and Annie reading comic books on the chair beside her, eating dinners of sandwiches, squashed and warm from too long in her backpack, on the entrance steps after it closed, anything to avoid going home. She frowns, suddenly impossibly glad Rio can’t see her face, but she thinks he might feel something in the curl of her against him, because his hands move from her ass to her back, rubbing slow circles there with his rough fingers. 

“I ran track.” 

And god, what? She blinks, pushes back suddenly to look at him, doesn’t get far, with his hand still on her back and his thigh between her own, and Rio only half looks like he regrets saying it. 

“What?” 

She’s not sure what he reads on her face, but he gives her a look she can’t read either. 

“I mean, it ain’t football,” he drawls, and okay, that’s what he read. She rolls her eyes, moves a hand up to his neck, presses a thumb against the line of his jaw. 

“Were you any good?” she asks instead of entertaining his pissing contest with Dean, and he raises both eyebrows, and right, Beth thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again – like he’d ever tell her about anything he wasn’t good at.

“Did you have to wear those tight little shorts?” she asks instead, and when he looks at her surprised, like he hadn’t realised her mind would go there, she laughs, delighted, pinching his chin. 

“You did!” she crows, wriggling against him and Rio frowns down at her, squinting in a way she knows means he’s going to distract her, one way or another.

“Do you still have them? Can you wear them for me?” she asks quickly, before he has the chance to, and he scowls, lowering his hands again and wrenching her night dress up to her armpits in reply, grabbing her nude back hotly, like it might fluster her enough to change the topic on her own, and maybe it would’ve if she didn’t have the mental image of his flat ass in tiny, spandex running shorts. Beth cackles, loudly, and probably for too long, gradually smoothing her night dress back down as she does it. 

She’s still hiccupping with the image of him when he looks at her again, and she thinks she sees something close to affectionate below the annoyance, but it passes quickly, and she thinks he’s going to change the topic entirely, but he only pivots it. 

“My teacher wanted me to sign up for mathletes too, but I ain’t fuckin’ with that. Fast way to get your ass handed to you.” 

Beth hums in agreement. She’d seen too many of those kids buried in lockers in her own high school days. She can’t ever really imagine Rio having his ass handed to him though, but then again, perhaps he’s learnt not to from experience. She almost probes, but decides against it. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you were good enough at math to be poached for the team.”

He gives her a shit eating grin, and Beth tilts her head at him, giving him her best unimpressed look in reply. She somehow resists the urge to quip back that he should put those skills to better use working for a bank – he’s a glorified debt collector after all – but feels like that would be a quick way to get him pissed off at her and shifting deadlines again on all the ways the Beth outside of this room owes the Rio outside of it. 

“I bet you were in AP English,” he hums, and she blinks up at him, surprised enough to nod, and he grins, more than a little smug as he says, “Me too.”

And before she even has the time to think on that, he’s pulling her further up his thigh, so close her breasts press into his chest, so close she feel his breath, filling the air between them. His hands find the back of her night dress again, fisting it, balling up the fabric so it slides halfway up her ass. The movement, the contact, the pressure of his grip - - the blush spreads across her chest, her cheeks faster than she can stop it, and Rio clocks it lazily, lips pulling wider in their grin.

“I woulda sat in the back,” he says. “I bet you were in the front row.” 

“You got me.” 

And she means to say it dryly, only her breath hitches when he tenses his thigh against her panty-clad cunt, the new pressure making her push down against him before she can stop herself. 

“I bet you always had your hand in the air,” he continues, lowering his voice until it’s a thick, dulcet purr, fist dragging up her back, pulling her night dress with it. “Bet you pouted when Teach didn’t call on you.” 

Beth opens her mouth to reply, but Rio shushes her quickly. 

“There are other kids in the class, Elizabeth.” 

And it’s loaded, like she knows he intends – always says things he means to her in these moments, and she frowns despite how red she is, pinching at his side, and he laughs, shedding all his heat in an instant, and god, that isn’t _fair_. She feels too hot, wet, bristling with tension now, and Rio somehow is as relaxed and preening as he ever is. 

“You wouldn’t have noticed me anyway,” she sniffs, and he blinks at her in a lazy sort of disbelief. 

“I wouldn’t’a noticed the girl in the front row answerin’ every damn question like she was on fuckin’ _Jeopardy_?” 

“I would’ve annoyed you,” she corrects herself, and his grin only widens, _softens_ , the skin around his eyes crinkling as he looks briefly away from her. 

“Yeah, you would’ve,” he agrees. “But I would’ve liked it.” 

And Beth suddenly finds herself breathless, her eyes fixing on him, looking at her, something too open in his expression, too weighted, and she has no idea what to do with it, no idea what he’s trying to tell her, because this is just, they’re just - - 

She looks away, squirms up the bed a little, a few inches up off his thigh, and he doesn’t follow her like she thought that he might have, rather he pulls away a little, releases the back of her night dress, gives her space. 

They’re both quiet for a minute, and once again, Rio’s the one to break it. 

“English your only AP class?” he asks, and Beth looks at him, suddenly relieved, almost grateful. She clears her throat, smooths her hand down the belly of her night dress. 

“Yeah, I mean. Most of my other classes didn’t have AP options. Home Economics, French, Music.” 

She shakes her head, looks over at him a little more shyly than she intends. 

“I was really bad at math.” 

He arches an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she says. She almost flunked it junior year, but she doesn’t tell Rio that. Isn’t quite willing to reveal _just_ how bad she was, and maybe she half expects him to laugh anyway, but he doesn’t. 

“Maybe I would’a tutored you,” he says instead, and Beth barks on a laugh, rolling her eyes as she looks up at him. 

“You’re forgetting I know what a bad teacher you are,” she replies, and Rio snorts. 

“Maybe Teach would’a made me anyway. Would’a gotten me outta detention with it,” he says, and then something in his face shifts as he looks back at her. Something a little darker than all this make believe deserves. “Bet you’d be embarrassed. Someone like me teachin’ someone like you.” 

And yeah, she would, she thinks, shrugging a little bashfully, but not because of him. When his expression doesn’t change, she sighs. 

“I think I’d have been embarrassed by anyone trying to teach me,” she confesses, and it does surprisingly quick work of diffusing him, of lightening him back up. He hums, shifting a little closer again, and she can see it, his mind whirring through scenarios, and she’s so used to seeing it with work, she’s not used to seeing it here, like this, and she’s not sure if she’s pleased, annoyed or embarrassed that seeing his mind in action gets her as wet as seeing him naked does. 

“I’d pretend I didn’t want to,” he decides, and Beth’s thighs clench together at his tone. “But I’d want to. Like the idea of gettin’ you alone, seein’ that crease right there,” he rubs the pad of his calloused thumb across the spot between her eyebrows. “Bendin’ that body over my math book.” 

Beth flushes, but rocks her jaw a little when she looks back at him.

“I was dating Dean,” she tells him, and Rio just laughs. 

“Baby, you’re _married_ to him. I don’t care now, you think I’d have cared then?” 

She gives him a look, because like hell he doesn’t care now – she almost reminds him of the football comment he’d made not three minutes ago, but then he just grins at her, before pursing his lips, skirting his eyes down her body. 

“You’d have caught me lookin’ anyway,” he tells her, and she can feel the heat flare in her belly, like she isn’t used to him _looking_ at her. “AP English. How many desks between us? And I can still see you blush.” 

He laughs, something guttural and full, his hand reaching for the spaghetti strap of her night dress, slipping it off her shoulder, and Beth’s flush only deepens. 

“I probably wouldn’t have. Noticed, I mean,” she bites back, weirdly determined to ruin whatever it is he’s trying to do. “I wasn’t the most observant teenager.” 

With her strap halfway down her arm, the triangle bit of fabric covering her breast folds in defeat, revealing what feels like a mile of curving pale skin, and Rio makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat, stroking his thumb slowly, gently across it. 

“Nah” he says after a minute. “I would’ve made sure that you did.” 

And she tries to arch an eyebrow, but she’s not sure she can get her face muscles to work, not with the way he’s touching her like this. His eyes leave her breast to meet hers.

“I would’ve tried to get you back to my place for it, tried to get you in those books but on my bed, but you would’a been all about the library, and man, I ain’t stepped foot in there since freshman orientation, but you know the librarian by first name.” 

He laughs again, almost talking to himself now, or – or would be if it wasn’t for the way his eyes haven’t left her face, if she couldn’t see him clocking every twitch, every flush, every time her own eyes break contact. 

“Not all of them,” she tells him, and he grins, dart fast at her, unable to hide his satisfaction at being _right_ , but he schools his expression quickly, and when he opens his mouth to reply, Beth keeps going. “I probably have to show you where the maths books are even kept.”

He shrugs, coy, his fingers joining his thumb in his gentle caress of her revealed breast. 

“Ain’t my fault I get it quick.” 

“Sure,” Beth agrees dryly. “But comments like that would kind of make me hate you.” 

And that seems to surprise him, if his loud, almost joyous laugh is anything to go by, please him too, and suddenly he’s pressed against her again, his big hand moving to find the dip of her waist, pulling her against him. 

“So I would’a said that shit more.” 

“And I would’ve quit.” 

“I would’a snitched.” 

Beth blinks at him. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Mmmm,” he purrs happily. “Told Teach you decided you didn’t want my help. You know he would’a pulled you aside. What would you do? Tell him I was too good at math?” 

Beth frowns, annoyed on behalf of a completely made up version of herself, but she’d be lying if she said she couldn’t see it. Herself red faced, books clutched to her chest, as some faceless teacher told her he thought she was smarter than this, and her, showing back up in the library, Rio – young, and fresh faced, but with that same stupid, smug grin. 

“So we’d start again,” Beth says with a sigh, her hand moving to pull her night dress up again, and Rio nods as he catches her hand to stop her. 

“I’d know the limit this time. I’d do that shit less.” 

Beth looks pointedly at his hand clutching hers, and then at her still revealed breast, and he shrugs, almost bashful, before gesturing down to his own naked body almost as if in bargaining, and maybe she can’t help her own smile, humming a little. 

“You’re trying to make me like you.” 

He grins, but quickly smothers it, looking away from her. 

“Maybe I feel sorry for you,” he sniffs. “Also I know what we got. Figure I gotta change tactics if you’re gonna let me feel you up.” 

She knows he’s going to palm at her breast again before he even does it, but she still lets him get a pretty good grope in before she bats his hand away. 

“You try it and I tell you I have a boyfriend.” 

“I tell you he ain’t shit.” 

And she looks at him then, really looks, and it’s just - - there’s an honesty there, uncurling in his gaze, something naked and earnest and - - and _precious_ almost, and it twists something in her – unlocks it and then locks it again almost as quickly, and she’s not sure what that means and just - - god, what are they _doing_. 

“Maybe when you do I kiss you,” she says, a little uncertainly, and she looks away and then back at him and he’s leaning closer, his face still open, too sweet, and he’s a hair’s breath away from her lips when he says: 

“And I just think _damn, you’re easier than I thought._ ” 

And just like that, the moment’s gone, and she scowls, slapping him a little too hard to be playful, yanking up the top of her night dress. She tries to roll away, but he grabs her, pulling her back up against him, and he’s laughing when he kisses her properly this time, his hand in her hair. 

“You want me to fuck you on your homework or against the shelves?” he purrs into her mouth, and Beth blushes bright and red, squirms back a little, and he laughs, and she’s surprised to hear him slightly breathless, and she realises this is affecting him too, despite the jokes, and something in her just - - 

It just _clicks_. 

She bites her lip, looking up at him, her eyes widening just a little.

“We only just kissed,” she says, a little breathless. “I’d be so nervous, you know? But god, I’d want you.”

And she can feel him, his cock hard against her thigh, can see him, his pupils blown, lips wet and parted, still half grinning, and yet, she thinks she can do better still. She presses against him again, curls her shoulders, so the straps of her nightdress pull and slip down on their own. 

“Thing is I wouldn’t even know the ache in me was meant for you, not like I know now.” 

And she’s not sure how much of that is true, not sure how much of it he believes, but doesn’t think it matters when he’s that hard, and she’s this wet, and she squirms a little against him until he kisses her, bruisingly hard, and then pulls back. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

Beth blinks at him. 

“Is this pretend-you or you-you?” 

“Both, neither, I don’t care,” he says, his fingers finding the edge of her panties and yanking them down as far as he can, until Beth’s left to kick them off. 

“I’d be wearing jeans at school,” she tells him, like it’s important, helping him to pull her night dress off, watches him toss it down the bed. He pulls her naked body flush against him, hands pressing against every inch of her, as if committing her to memory, and that must be the fantasy, because this him _knows_ every inch of her, and she tries to swallow the self-consciousness of him picturing her without stretch marks and caesarean scars and with nicer, perkier (albeit smaller) tits, and - - and - - _oh_ she thinks, when his lips find her breast and his fingers ghosts over her clit, just _oh_. 

She gasps, cants her hips towards him, and god, she still aches from last night, but the burn is too good when he pushes two fingers inside her, fucking her with them in earnest, and she wraps her arms around him, clutching at his shoulders, his back, digging in her nails hard enough she’s sure she’ll leave crescent moon cuts in his too-perfect skin. 

And he’s too good at this, she thinks, gasping, feeling his calloused thumb circle her clit, and she’s just starting to crest on her orgasm when he pulls his fingers out, lines up his cock and pushes into her in one long, hard thrust. Beth cries out, babbles something she doesn’t even understand, and tries to ignore Rio lifting his mouth from her breast to press smug, smiling kisses against her neck and jaw. She digs her nails in a little harder, just to feel his thrusts stutter, and when she clenches around him, he hisses: 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” 

And she laughs, a little breathlessly, so, so close, as she says, “Would’ve been tighter then.” 

And maybe she means it as a joke, maybe she doesn’t, she doesn’t know, but it doesn’t stop her shock when he pushes hard back into her, burying himself to the hilt, and grabbing her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“I like you now,” he says, voice firm, and Beth stares at him, her eyes wide, and she just - - she _grabs_ him, his head, pulling him down to kiss her, pushing her tongue into his mouth, claiming it, like he’s claiming her, and maybe - - maybe she likes him now too. 

It’s erratic after that – the pace and the movements made awkward by their inability to stop clinging to each other or roll one of them over to get a better angle or a better grounding, but Beth doesn’t really care, not when he can still fuck her this well, not when he can know her body enough to get her off in a few deep thrusts and rough circles of her clit, and when she comes, he’s not far behind her, pulling out in time to come on her hip and her belly.

And then they’re both rolling over, falling onto their backs, breathless, Beth’s thighs still trembling, her arms falling wide enough to hit Rio in the chest. It’s enough to make him look at her, his expression oddly serious when she turns her head to meet him, and she squints a little until his face splits into a grin as he reaches out to jab a finger against the new hickey, blooming on her breast, and then against the other one, high enough on her neck she’ll need to wear scarves for a week. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, rolling her eyes. She’ll let him have the moment. She’s pretty sure she’s left a hundred little cuts in his back and neck anyway – she just knows how to internalise her smugness. 

After a minute, he stretches, sitting up in bed and scooting towards the edge. Beth blinks, leaning up on her elbows and giving her best Rio stare.

“If you get out of this bed, darlin’, you and me are gonna have a problem.” 

Her voice is still a little sleep and sex scratchy, but she thinks that only lends itself to her Rio impression, and if she were less fucked out she’d probably be amused by Rio’s intensely offended expression. 

“Was that supposed to be me?” 

Beth hums the affirmative, sitting up the rest of the way to untangle the sheets from the end of the bed, pulling them loosely up over her body and settling herself back into bed.

“I was just gonna grab you somethin’ to clean up with, damn.”

“Later,” Beth says, sleep already tugging at her eyelids as she buries her head in the pillow, and Rio laughs, quiet and rolling, and she doesn’t see him lie down, but she feels the mattress dip, feels the weight and the warmth of him as he lies back down beside him, feels his words, mumbled into her neck:

“You bitch me out later about it, we really will have a problem.” 

“Shhh,” she mumbles, throwing a hand over his mouth, and Rio licks her palm, laughing when she squawks, before he shifts lower on the bed, nestling his head on her breasts, clutching her waist to him. 

“Go to sleep,” he tells her, and Beth is inclined to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, I'm so sorry, this is weird and a bit silly, but it was fun to write. I hope people like it!
> 
> Title is kind of from Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me. A classic highschool song, haha.


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